At Face Value
by JPsmiles
Summary: Harsh words and an accident bring up memories of the past for Face.
1. Chapter 1

Title: At Face Value

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

"I wish you didn't have to go back tomorrow," Face lamented as he laid face-up on his bed staring at the ceiling. "The weekend is going by so quickly."

"Time flies when you're having fun, Muchacho." Murdock turned his baseball cap backwards on his head, leaned forward and grinned mischievously. "Speaking of fun, how'd you like to play a little game?"

Face propped himself onto his elbows and returned the smile. "Sure, what you got in mind?"

"Ever heard of Cops and Robbers?"

"Murdock, I was raised in an orphanage, not a cave! Of course I've heard of cops and robbers."

"Well, I got my own little version. I like to call it Fugitive and M.P.!"

B.A. groaned, overhearing the conversation as he passed by the door. "Oh brother…this oughtta be good," he mumbled shaking his head.

Hannibal listened to the laughter coming from the small bedroom and couldn't help but smile. There hadn't been much for them to laugh about lately and it was starting to take its toll on the team. Laughter is one of those things people sometimes take for granted; something they don't realize is missing until it is gone. One of life's simple pleasures, the old cliché is often true: it is the best medicine.

In the three months since they had escaped from Fort Bragg, Hannibal had noticed a rapid change in his men. Murdock had been committed to the Veteran's hospital psyche ward, B.A. was doing his best to live up to his "Bad Attitude" name…and then there was Face. Face had just about completely withdrawn into himself. When Murdock was committed, it was as if he took Face's personality with him. The kid had even stopped whining...Hannibal never thought the day would come when he would actually miss that!

The only time Face would come alive was when he was scamming something for the team. He had no problem pretending to be someone else. But when he had to be himself again, he would shut down; the walls would go up and he stayed locked inside. Hannibal didn't know what was worse: B.A. telling him off multiple times a day or Face just sitting there. At least B.A. was getting some of his anger out; Face was just internalizing it all and sooner or later he was bound to crack.

They were all nervous the first time Face sprung Murdock from the VA to spend the weekend with them. This being the third time, they knew what to expect and were looking forward to it. Even B.A. was happy to see the man he often referred to as "the fool", although they would have to string him up by his ever increasing gold collection to get him to admit it.

Hannibal and B.A. were sharing the larger bedroom inside a tiny apartment Face had scammed for them, leaving Murdock to bunk in with Face in the smaller room. It was tight living; calling it too close for comfort would be putting it mildly, but it sure beat the alternative of a 10 X 10 cell inside of a military prison.

In many ways Murdock seemed to be the same man he was before his little breakdown. He had always been a bit eccentric; some would say he walked to the beat of his own drummer. It was a little more challenging these days, however. Murdock could be fine one moment, and the next would be talking to an imaginary friend.

But, Face liked having the pilot around; they were good for each other. Murdock gave Face an opportunity to play and be carefree; to catch up on some of the things he didn't have the opportunity to do as a child. And when Murdock wandered off a bit too far in his mind, Face was able to bring him back to reality. Conversely, Murdock helped Face relax and escape from his.

B.A. watched Face and Murdock over the course of the weekend with mixed emotions. On one hand it was great having the whole team back together. It was true in the team's case: the sum of the whole was greater than its parts. Something was missing when Murdock wasn't around, and that something wasn't an airplane…that B.A. would gladly do without! Seeing his friends goofing off reminded him of the good times they had in Nam. In spite of all the bad they had lived through and the horrors of war, they managed to have lots of laughs along the way. It was nice to have that feeling back again…even if only for a little while.

But, on the other hand, being together was a reminder of just how serious their current situation was…and how much it hurt them to be apart. B.A. knew that on Monday morning Murdock would go back to the VA, Face would clam up, Hannibal would worry and the laughter would end. It was like in that fairy tale Cinderella, the clock would strike midnight and the magic would be gone. They would go back to being fugitives, struggling to survive.

By Sunday night, all Hannibal and B.A. wanted to do was sit back with a couple of beers and watch the game on TV. When football was on, B.A. could tune everything else out and get lost in the action. Hannibal, however, was having a harder time blocking out the noise of Face and Murdock running around the apartment in the midst of an epic pillow fight. The novelty of watching their horseplay had worn off hours ago and now he felt himself growing increasingly irritated with their antics.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and it was snowing feathers inside the living room. Face and Murdock lay sprawled out on the floor, both men covered in a blanket of white and laughing uncontrollably. Tears ran down Face's cheeks and his sides ached something awful...but he couldn't remember the last time he felt so good. That is until Hannibal came storming over holding what was left of the pillow that sent the lamp on the coffee table flying.

"What is wrong with you two? You are grown men…soldiers…you shouldn't be acting like little boys." He pointed to a long gash down the middle of the pillow from which feathers were still leaking. "What if one of you had been cut instead of this pillow, huh? What would we do then? Escaped prisoners can't exactly go wandering into the local E.R. "

Both guilty men stood up and snapped to attention at the Colonel's "I mean business" voice…until a feather got into Murdock's nose and he sneezed sending feathers flying once again.

Murdock continued sneezing while Hannibal pointed to Face who had turned red trying to hold it together. "And you're supposed to be the sane one. You shouldn't encourage him like this."

Murdock stopped sneezing long enough to look up and say in an innocent tone, "I'm the crazy one...I know not what I do."

"Murdock," Face hissed under his breath, "you're not helping me here."

The sneezing resumed, Face groaned, and Hannibal rolled his eyes and continued laying into Face. "Lieutenant, your face is your contribution to this team. If you start getting reckless and mess up that contribution of yours, how would you function and be able to supply our needs?"

Face felt as if he had been punched in the gut; for a moment he thought he might be sick. A chill ran through his body and he broke out in goosebumps. He wanted to speak, but his breath caught in his throat and he had to focus on his breathing instead.

Face's severe reaction didn't go unnoticed by Hannibal or B.A. who shot the colonel a worried look. Even Murdock sobered up and put his arm around Face's shoulder.

"Sorry Colonel...we'll clean up the mess," Murdock said, giving the shoulder a squeeze before releasing his grip on Face and turning to find a broom.

Finding his voice, Face mumbled, "Sorry sir," before bending over and picking up what was left of the lamp.

The living room remained silent except for the sound of the TV. After cleaning up the mess, Face and Murdock retreated to their room. Hannibal welcomed the quiet, but still couldn't get the look on his Lieutenant's face out of his mind.

"You know you was a bit rough on the Faceman, dontcha?"

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk about being rough, B.A."

"I know I ain't been easy to live wit' lately," B.A. admitted, "but you was out of line, man. Sure, Faceman's looks may get us stuff, but I seem to remember they also gettin' him lots of stuff he didn't want in the camps, if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, Hannibal did know what he meant. "Damn! I know," he sighed rubbing at the graying stubble on his chin. "It's just that I feel responsible for you boys...when that lamp went flying I snapped."

"All due respect, we may have gone to Nam as boys, but I'm pretty sure we came back as men. Plus, we a team, Hannibal. We responsible for each other. It ain't all on you."

"I didn't mean for it to come out the way it did...I'll talk to Face in the morning." Hannibal cocked his head to the side and gave B.A. a curious look. "When did you get so wise B.A.?

B.A. shrugged and smiled, "I always been wise, I just pick my moments to enlighten you is all." He turned his attention back to the T.V. "Now, nuff' with all the jibber-jabber...let's watch some football!"

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Title: At Face Value

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Not wanting to risk another lecture, Face decided to turn in early. Hannibal's words kept replaying in his head giving him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Face was well aware that it was his job to scam stuff for the team and that his face was part of his tool kit; it wasn't as if it wasn't anything he didn't already know.

He tossed and turned in the bed trying to figure what exactly had gotten him so rattled. Sure, it hurt having Hannibal point it out to him so bluntly, but his skin had built up some pretty thick layers over the years. He was more embarrassed that he let his guard down and had let his feelings show.

Murdock pretended to be asleep but instead watched his restless friend in the bed across the room until he finally became still and allowed the sleep to take him. Face, in his 21 years of life, had lived through more than most people four times his age would ever experience. He had been abandoned by his parents at a very young age and was raised in a Catholic orphanage. A veteran of the Vietnam War, he survived a brutal stint in a POW camp only to become a wanted man.

'I may be the crazy one, but something tells me you're the most troubled of any of us,' Murdock thought, 'and if you're not, you should be.'

It wasn't long before Face's head began shifting from side to side and he started mumbling something that Murdock couldn't quite make out. "Faceman, I have a feeling you're not in Los Angeles anymore," Murdock said to himself and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

_The fists were pounding him all over. He tried to fight back but he was too small to stand a chance. He was flat on his back; his assailant straddled on top of him making it impossible to get away. "Not so pretty now, are you," he sneered. The bully delivered one final blow to his midsection forcing all of the air out of his tiny body before simply getting up and walking away. He rolled onto his side and curled into a tight ball waiting for his breath to return._

_There was a flash and then he was running through the front door of a large colonial style house. He stopped at the kitchen where standing before him was a very beautiful woman who reminded him of a blonde Audrey Hepburn. Dressed to perfection in a powder blue dress, her golden hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail and tied with a ribbon to match. Seeing him standing there, she smiled showing off a row of perfect white teeth between her full red lips. The smile was quickly replaced by a frown as he walked over and she got a closer look at his battered face and blood stained clothes. She took his face between her thumb and forefinger and turned it from side to side looking at him with disgust. Her eyes grew cold and she said in an angry tone, "it will take weeks until you are presentable again. You are of no use to us any longer."_

_Another flash and he was back inside the orphanage. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked out the window and watched the car that just dropped him off pull away with another blond-haired, blue-eyed boy in the back seat. "No, don't go," he quietly sobbed; he was all alone._

The moonlight streaming in through the window gave Murdock a good view of his trembling friend. Face was prone to nightmares. In fact, it was rare for him to go more than a couple of days without one. The usual protocol was to let Face ride the dream out and wake up on his own. It was too dangerous to wake him up when he was in this state; he would go into attack mode and lash out at anything near him. The only time they would intervene was when it appeared as if he might injure himself, and even then it would take at least two of them to bring him out of it safely. But now, watching the tears flow from his closed eyes was almost too much for Murdock to bear. He considered breaking procedure but Face beat him to the punch.

Face bolted upright in bed, his heart beating like a jack-hammer in his chest. He looked around the room wildly trying to remember where he was…and hoping to forget where he had just been. His entire body was wet with sweat, but in contrast his throat felt incredibly dry. He locked eyes briefly with Murdock before looking down at his lap.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna talk about it."

"No." Not only didn't he want to talk about it, he didn't even want to think about it. Face swiped at his eyes and plastered on the best smile he could manage. "For the record, these aren't tears. It's just awfully hot in here and my eyeballs are sweating."

Murdock chuckled; Face had an answer for everything. "From the looks of it, they got one heck of a workout."

"It was just a bad dream, Murdock." Murdock didn't look convinced. "Really…I'm fine."

"I'm the one living in the loony bin…who am I to judge?"

Both men lay back down though neither one was finding it easy to fall back asleep.

"Face?"

"Yeah?"

"You want Billy to come sleep with you?" He always makes me feel safe."

'If only it were that easy,' Face thought, smiling at Murdock's childlike quality. "That would be great." Playing along, Face patted a spot next to him on the bed and said, "Come here, boy."

Face fell into a peaceful sleep within minutes. "Good job, Billy," Murdock whispered. "Take care of Facey for me tonight."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Title: At Face Value

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

After taking Murdock back to the V.A. the next morning, Face decided to stop off and pick up some supplies before heading back to the apartment. Still feeling awkward about the night before, he avoided Hannibal before they left and wasn't exactly in a hurry to get back. He had bribed Murdock into getting up extra early and leaving a note without saying good-bye in person. It took a little convincing, but a trip to Uncle Jack's Shack for their Breakfast Bonanza Special...complete with the annoying toy of the week...sealed the deal. Face wasn't hungry, so Murdock ate his share. And, of course, played with his toy.

Thoughts of the previous night's dream distracted Face from the usual sadness of having to leave Murdock at the hospital. People were always saying that "time heals all wounds", but Face wasn't buying it. If that was true then why did it hurt as much now, fifteen years later, than it did back then?

"Templeton Winchester," he said out loud just to hear how it sounded. It was quite a long name for a little boy, but it had been his name for a brief period many years ago.

At least his strange reaction to Hannibal's words made sense now. That stuff about his face being "his contribution" triggered something inside of him and brought back the memories of his foster family; a family that never wanted him, but just wanted a boy who looked the part. They wanted his face and once that face wasn't able to give them what they wanted, they didn't want him anymore. They simply traded him in. The more he thought about it the angrier it made him.

That anger was replaced by horror as he started driving through an intersection only to see a car speeding through a red light in front of him. He braked hard, pushing the pedal to the floor, but was too late to avoid the impending collision. His head crashed into the steering wheel and a sharp pain shot through his right arm which he had extended against the dashboard in the hopes of bracing himself for the impact. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he tried to lift his head up, but failed and let it rest against the faux leather wheel instead.

Through blurred vision Face saw people approaching the scene. The other driver appeared to be okay, but was trying in vain to open up his door from the inside as a couple of men pulled from the outside. Face knew they would try to help him next and he had to get out of there.

Survival instinct trumped his pain and he slowly got out of the wrecked car. Using the increasing commotion to his advantage, he slipped away from the scene and staggered down a side street. Coming to a large green dumpster at the end of the alley, he leaned his back against the hidden far end and let his body slide down to the pavement.

Face felt something warm running down his cheek and went to wipe at it with his right hand, but the pain in his arm stopped him in his tracks; by the severity of the sensation he knew it was broken. He cradled his injured arm against his abdomen and brought his left hand up to his head, and wasn't surprised when it came back bloody. He could feel his eye already beginning to swell and was sure he must look awful.

"Okay, don't panic," he said softly to himself. "Just think…gotta think."

Everything felt jumbled up and he was finding it hard to focus. He could hear voices inside his head: "Not so pretty now, are you?"; "it will take weeks until you are presentable again"; "Lieutenant, your face is your contribution to this team". He shook his head trying to clear his mind, but quickly regretted that action as the pounding in his head only intensified, as did his confusion.

One thing seemed clear, however, and that was that he couldn't go back to the team. Not now at least, looking the way he did. Not only that, but he totaled their car and was in no condition to scam a new one. That car may have been an old piece of junk, but it got them around and served as a get-away car if the military came knocking.

A wrecked car and a wrecked face...what good was he now? He had been abandoned more than once in his life, and he didn't think he could stand it happening again.

Face heard sirens nearby and his heart started beating a bit faster. He knew he had to get moving, but wasn't sure where he was going. He needed help, and the only person he could think of that could help him was Father Maghill. The aging priest had practically raised him since as long back as he could remember. And when the Winchester's left him back at the orphanage door, he was there to wipe his tears and tell him everything was going to be okay. If he could just make it to the orphanage, he could stay there until he had recovered and was able to go back to the team with a new car and a healed face.

Now that he had a plan, the only problem would be executing it. The orphanage was located on the opposite side of town. He would have to avoid main roads and public transportation; his injuries would draw too much attention or somebody might recognize him. It would be quite a hike even for an able-bodied individual, and right now he was anything but.

'It hurts just sitting here,' he thought. 'Moving can't be much worse.' He carefully pushed himself up using his good arm and maneuvered himself back to a standing position. "Wrong, moving is worse," he groaned as his head swam and he had to grab onto the dumpster just to keep upright.

What was that thing Hannibal was always telling him? The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. As he started walking, he was able to fully understand the meaning of those words for the first time.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to kill that kid," Hannibal bristled as he paced back and forth in front of the phone. "That note he left just doesn't cut it...he knows the rule about checking in."<p>

"Sit down already, man. You makin' me dizzy!"

"When I worry, I pace!"

"I thought you was angry, not worried?"

"I am angry…I'm angry that he's making me worry."

"You think Faceman got hisself caught?"

"God, I hope not. But if he did, it would be all over the news. Turn the T.V. on B.A.," Hannibal said reaching for the phone. "I'll give Murdock a call and see what he knows."

B.A. stared at the T.V. intently, not wanting to see his friend's face appear on the screen. With each passing news story he felt a little better; he figured the capture of a member of the A-Team would get top billing. But a few moments later, his heart sank.

"Hannibal!" B.A. called.

Hannibal had just hung up the phone and turned around saying, "Murdock said that Face dropped him off over two hours ago. Noticing the tense look on B.A.'s face he asked, "What's up?"

B.A. pointed to the screen and turned up the volume. A pretty blonde reporter stood in front of what looked like their old grey 4-door sedan.

"_It's being called a reverse hit-and-run that has authorities baffled. Earlier today a drunk driver ran a red light forcing the car behind me to plow into his vehicle. The inebriated driver suffered only minor cuts and bruises and is currently being charged with a DUI. Where this story takes an interesting turn is that the victim in this accident," she pointed to the car, "the driver of this car, fled the scene. Witnesses describe him as a Caucasian male, sandy blond hair, late teens or early twenties. My sources tell me that a thorough forensic investigation of the car will be performed early tomorrow morning in the hopes of finding this mystery man. If you have any information, please contact the LAPD at 555-LAPD. Again that number is 555-5273. This is Jennifer Jones reporting, live, from the Los Angeles Police Department impound."_

"At least Faceman got away...that means he probably not hurt." B.A. said, turning the T.V. off. "What's the plan now, Hannibal?"

"Surprisingly, it doesn't seem as if they dusted it for prints yet. We have to get to that car before they do and pray that you can fix it enough so that we can move it."

"If it got wheels, I can move it."

Compared to some of the missions they had accomplished in Nam, getting the car back was a breeze. They had taken a bus to the impound, hopped the fence, located and liberated the car, and were back at the apartment within a couple of hours. B.A. was able to make some quick repairs and get the car running relatively quickly; it had looked a lot worse than it really was.

"Let's stash the car down a side street and out of view," Hannibal said as they neared the apartment. "Face should be back by now. He and I are going to have a little talk."

That talk would have to wait, as they discovered Face was still nowhere to be found.

Hannibal wanted to start pacing again, but one look at B.A.'s expression squelched that idea. He couldn't find Face if B.A. beat him to a pulp.

Pacing was out, so he settled for looking out the window at the darkening sky instead. "Where the heck are you, kid?"

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Title: At Face Value

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Face was all too aware of where he was...and it wasn't good. Dizzy from pain and weak from thirst and hunger, Face found himself stopping more and more frequently to rest. Listening to his stomach growl, he regretted skipping breakfast. He thought about stopping at a convenience store, but didn't have much money on him and it was not likely he could enter a store without raising suspicions.

"One foot in front of the other," Face mumbled; it had become his mantra. He held his broken arm against his side determined to keep moving. But with the passing steps his arm throbbed worse and his head pounded harder. The sun was going down as was the temperature. He shivered slightly as the cool air met his warm, sweaty skin.

"One foot in front of the other," he mumbled again and kept walking.

* * *

><p>"Calm down, Murdock!" Hannibal held the phone away from his ear as Murdock rambled on hysterically. Once there was silence again, he put the phone back to his ear and said, "I want you to stay where you are in case Face calls you or comes to the V.A."<p>

Again Murdock began to blather and Hannibal lowered the phone giving B.A. an exasperated look.

B.A. grabbed the phone away from Hannibal and growled, "Listen fool, we don't got time for this! Now, stop your blubberin' and listen to the Colonel."

Hannibal smiled his thanks at B.A. and accepted the receiver back. "We'll call you as soon as we know anything. If he comes to you first, leave a message on the answering machine. Understood?" There was a pause while Murdock answered. "Never mind, take care Captain," he replied with an amused smile before hanging up the phone.

"What he just say to you?"

"I asked him if he understood, and he asked me 'stood under what'?"

"Crazy fool," B.A. mumbled.

"I've been thinking, B.A. Where is the one place Face would go if he needed help?"

"Some foxy ladies' pad?" B.A. quipped.

'He picks now to develop a sense of humor?' Hannibal thought. "Besides that."

A light bulb seemed to go off in B.A.'s head and his eyes opened wide. "Father Maghill…the orphanage!"

"Bingo!"

A quick call to the orphanage later and they were no closer to finding Face, although they discovered that Military Police were frequently hanging around the institution.

Hannibal could understand why Face admired the priest so much. He was a kind man who affectionately referred to Face as "my boy" much the same as Hannibal would call him "kid". He didn't want to admit it, but at times he was envious of the way Face would talk about Father Maghill. He was a bright spot in what Hannibal suspected was a childhood full of darkness, and for that he was grateful. But still, he wished that his young lieutenant would one day come to feel about him in a similar way; to learn to trust in him and realize just how much Hannibal and the others cared about him.

"I think our best bet is to head toward the orphanage," Hannibal said grabbing the car keys off the coffee table and tossing them to B.A.

"What about the M.P.s? What if they there now?"

"Exactly. We need to intercept Face before he gets himself locked up."

"Right," B.A. said. "I just hope we ain't too late."

"That makes two of us." Hannibal ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper of late. "I'm getting too old for this stuff," he sighed.

"Your age ain't the problem. Your problem is the company you been keepin'"

"Present company excluded, I presume?" Hannibal asked with a smile.

B.A. nodded his head, then added, "hey, man, I ain't the one who's missin'. And I ain't the one who's been declared crazy."

"No, you're just the one with the mohawk who wears more jewelry than my sister." Hannibal winked and slapped B.A. playfully on the back. "Let's go find our Faceman."

* * *

><p>Face could see the steeple of the church adjacent to the orphanage. Illuminated by the moonlight, it stood out like a beacon against the black of the sky. Relief mixed with trepidation at the sight; a sight he hadn't seen since he left for Vietnam. All he had to do was cross through the park to reach it, but suddenly all these old memories started flooding back and he found himself unable to move.<p>

He leaned heavily against a large tree and using his good arm he gently rubbed his temple. In his pain and confusion he never stopped to think how returning here might affect him. His childhood hadn't been all unpleasant; there were some good times and some good people. But for every good moment or person, Face could recount at least a dozen bad ones.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder…not always true. The passage of time hadn't made the bad memories fade or the good ones became more vivid. However, the time away from Father Maghill had made him realize just how special a man he was…and how much he missed him. But then he met Hannibal and he helped to fill the void.

Father Maghill and Hannibal…they were very different yet shared the essential qualities that made them great men. They lead with conviction, lived with passion and fought for what was right…not what was popular. But of most importance to Face, when he was acting foolishly they called him on it, yet never turned him away or judged him because of it.

Thinking about Hannibal, Face felt a twinge of guilt. He knew he was selling the colonel short; Hannibal had never let him down before. Hannibal had just been blowing off steam the other night, but coupled with the nightmare it really played with his mind. Deep down, he knew that a battered face wouldn't have mattered. Heck, he had that and much worse in Nam.

But still he was afraid. His parents…the Winchesters…Leslie…his country. He never would have thought any of them would desert him either. But they did. And it hurt.

But now Face was physically hurt and he had to start moving again or run the risk of collapsing right where he was. It was very late, or early depending on how one looked at it. He took a deep breath, leaned his torso forward and pushed off of the tree. Teetering for a moment, he blinked his eyes and tried to get the world to stop spinning around him.

Face took a tentative step forward, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the faint sound of rustling chains. Spinning around quickly, he lost his balance and pitched forward. Something grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back, sparing him from hitting the ground. Pain lanced through his arm and his vision blurred as he was yanked behind the tree; his groans muffled by a large hand that covered his mouth.

The last thing he remembered was hearing B.A. whisper, "it's okay...I gotcha little brother," before everything faded to black.

* * *

><p>B.A. sat on the ground, his legs straddled with Face's limp body between them, his torso resting against the gold encrusted chest. B.A. could feel the heat radiating off of his friend's body as Hannibal checked him for injuries.<p>

"He's burnin' up, man."

"Yeah," Hannibal said, "and it looks like he's gone a couple of rounds with Ali, too." Hannibal ran his hands up and down Face's limbs and frowned when he felt the swelling at his right arm. "Damn," he cursed quietly. He had been hoping they would be able to care for Face themselves. But between the obvious fever and arm injury, he knew they needed help. "We have to get him to a doctor, B.A."

B.A. nodded in agreement. "How 'bout that clinic the next town over?"

"That's probably our safest option…let's get him to the car."

Hannibal followed closely behind B.A. who was carrying Face in his arms. This was the moment he had been dreading ever since they became fugitives; the moment he knew would eventually come. Hannibal was a planner and a problem solver. When he saw a problem, he would come up with a plan to fix it. But now they had a problem and had to rely on somebody other than themselves to fix it. It made Hannibal feel vulnerable and out of control…the antithesis of "the Jazz".

They laid Face across the backseat of the car, his head resting on Hannibal's lap. They drove in silence; words wouldn't do any good at this point anyway. Hannibal wiped some sweat off of Face's brow and pulled a cigar out of his pocket. He didn't plan on lighting it, but the feel of it between his lips relaxed him.

Hannibal looked down at his young Lieutenant. At face value he was a con-man, a pretty boy, and a lady's man. While all that was true to an extent, he was so much more.

The true value of Face was his heart and fighting spirit. Behind the visage, there was a kind, sensitive, and compassionate man. Face had plenty of reasons to take a "woe is me" approach to life, but instead he looked for the good in people and never used his past as an excuse for his future.

"We almost there," B.A. said glancing over his shoulder and interrupting Hannibal from his thoughts.

Hannibal glanced up, cigar still in mouth, and nodded. Turning his head to look out the window, he sighed wearily and thought, 'I might not be too old yet, but these past few days have definitely catapulted me in that direction.'

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

Title: At Face Value

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

Face felt a cool wet cloth being placed on his forehead. He could hear muffled voices in the distance; gradually they became louder and clearer. He contemplated trying to open his eyes, but they felt so heavy. Laying there with his eyes closed and listening to his friend's banter seemed like a much better option at the moment.

"Wake-up a little Facey…wake-up!" Murdock sang, doing his best Buddy Holly impersonation.

"Tell me again why we had to pick up this fool," B.A. growled.

"Because, Murdock is our friend," Hannibal explained. "And as our friend, I thought it would be a nice thing to do."

"Wake-up a little Facey…wake-up!" The singing continued as Murdock danced around the couch.

"Besides, if we hadn't sprung Murdock, he would have been calling here nonstop until we did."

"Why you think he taking so long to wake up? Even Murdock's awful singing ain't brought him 'round."

"Hey," Murdock stopped singing to protest. Placing a hand over his heart he said, "You wound me B.A."

"Between the concussion and the pain meds, the doc said that it could take some time for him to regain consciousness."

"What do you think happened, Colonel?" Murdock asked, in as serious a tone as he could manage.

"If you're asking why he decided to head for the orphanage way on the other side of town instead of coming back here, I don't know." Hannibal paused then added, "I suppose he was going to Father Maghill for help."

"He almost made it too," B.A. marveled. "He probably conned himself into thinkin' he was okay."

Face would have chuckled at that if he weren't in so much pain. Deciding it was time to ease his friends' worry, he rasped lightheartedly, "_he_ is right here, so you can stop talking about him now."

"Face!" they exclaimed in unison.

Face opened his eyes slowly, although the right one was swollen almost shut. "What happened?" he asked.

Hannibal removed the damp cloth from his forehead, and dipped it back in a bowl of ice cold water. "We were hoping you could tell us."

"I feel like I was run over by a bus," Face groaned.

"Close," Murdock smiled. "But it was more like you hit a car."

"A drunk driver ran a red light, and you couldn't stop," B.A. added. "Dontcha remember?"

"Yeah…it's just a bit fuzzy." Face tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but gasped as he jostled his arm. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to ride out the pain.

"Just lay still, Lieutenant," Hannibal ordered, placing a new towel on Face's brow. "You took quite a knock to the head and broke your arm pretty bad."

Noticing that Face still had his eyes closed and was breathing hard, Murdock asked, "You need something for the pain?"

"Yeah," he answered breathlessly.

B.A. left the room to retrieve the medication, but not before sharing a worried glance with Hannibal. Though he was obviously hurting, they all knew that Face hated pills. Due to his slender frame, they seemed to hit him harder than most. Face liked to control his emotions, and pain killers reduced his ability to do this. It had to be pretty bad for him to willingly agree to such a risk.

Face was grateful when the pills kicked in and his pain subsided to a dull ache. His friends were scattered around the room engrossed in various reading materials…or at least pretending to be.

"Did I ever tell you that I was once adopted?" Face asked out of the blue; his eyes focused on the ceiling.

Three pairs of eyes darted over to the couch. Childhood stories from Face were few and far between, so when he spoke they kept quiet and listened.

"I had been at the orphanage for about a year, so I must have been about six, when this couple came to visit. They were perfect…I mean they looked like they were straight from Hollywood or something. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester…even their name sounded classy." Face paused as if reliving the moment in his mind. "I can still remember when they told me I was going home with them. People were usually looking for infants or toddlers. At six, I was always being told I was too old."

Hannibal shook his head slightly at the thought of a six-year-old being considered old.

"It was like a fairy tale," Face continued dreamily, his eyes never wavering from the ceiling. "There were three other kids already living in the house, and we each had our own room full of toys and clothes. They would throw these lavish parties and us kids would get all dressed up and we'd be on our best behavior."

Face chuckled softly. "Heck, even I knew better then to act up and screw up the best thing that ever happened to me. Everybody was so nice…especially Mrs. Winchester. She would display us proudly, as if we were her own." He stopped talking and winced at the persistent throb in his head.

It was silent for a few long moments. Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. were dying to ask him what happened next, but they knew it was better to let it come naturally. If they pushed Face to hard, he was bound to clam up. Finally Face turned his head to look at the team. His eyes were glassy and his gaze appeared a little unfocused; a sure sign of the drugs in effect. They were relieved when he started talking again.

"I was a little thing for my age. There was a bully at school that liked to pick on me. Normally he would just call me names or trip me in the hallway. I was used to the older boys in the orphanage doing worse, so I would just ignore him."

Face's heart started to beat a little faster and his words sped up to match. "But then one day he just threw me to the ground and started wailing on me. It was awful; I couldn't move or breathe. When he was done, I had a black eye and cuts and bruises all over my face and body. I just wanted to go home where I knew I'd be safe."

Again Face stopped and turned his attention back to the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths trying to compose himself.

"Have you ever been thrown away?" he asked, but didn't wait for any answers. "Well I have been."

Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. sat in stunned silence, not quite sure what Face meant.

"When I got home that day, Mrs. Winchester took one look at me and told me I was of no use to them looking like that. They had me in a car on the way back to the orphanage before I knew what hit me. You see, they hadn't legally adopted me yet and I was still considered a foster child."

Face fought the tears that were welling up and coughed to clear his cracking voice. "And even though they promised to officially make me Templeton Winchester, they decided instead to throw me out on the curb like yesterday's trash."

"Oh Face," Murdock mumbled sympathetically, and that just about summed up how they all were feeling.

B.A. was clenching and unclenching his fists. He wasn't good with words like the rest of the guys, but he felt as if he should say something. After all, the Faceman had just bared his soul to them; silence just didn't seem right. "I'm real sorry you had to go through that, man…ain't right."

Face looked over at B.A. with a weak smile. "You know how wacky these drugs make me. I'm sorry I'm acting like such a wuss. It's okay…really…it happened a long, long time ago."

Hannibal nervously fiddled with an unlit cigar. Face was getting ready to slip his "everything is fine" mask back on, but not if Hannibal could help it. "No, it's not okay. It's not okay for you to have been treated that way."

"I was just trying to answer your question," Face said calmly; the mask was almost in place.

"What question?" Hannibal probed.

"I heard you talking before about why I went to the orphanage instead of to you guys."

The mask was slipping back down. "It was all like a blur. One moment I was laughing and then the lamp broke and you were yelling. Then I dreamt about the Winchesters and got into the accident. I was just afraid that if you saw me, you wouldn't need me anymore and would send me away. Kind of seems silly now, but my head was spinning and I couldn't think straight."

Hannibal sat down on the end of the couch near Face's feet, and rested his hand on Face's knee. "I'm sorry, kid. I never should have said those things to you. You have to know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't mean it. But…but… I don't know, maybe deep down I'll always be afraid.

"Afraid of us?" Murdock asked.

"No, not afraid of you…well maybe a little afraid of B.A.," Face grinned.

"Good!" B.A. grinned back.

"I think I'll always be afraid that my face is all I am…or at least the only reason people keep me around. Hell, it's even my nickname!"

"You want a new name? I'm sure Billy and I could come up with one!" Murdock rested his head in his hand as if deep in thought. "You don't like 'Face"…how about 'Ankles'?"

"Ankles?" B.A. snarled. "Shut-up fool before your new name is 'Meat' as in 'Dead-Meat'."

"Face," Hannibal said, "Your face is a part of you, but it's just one small part. Your value to this team," he paused, "and your value to me, is much greater. I'm afraid to tell you that we're not going anywhere."

"Looks like you're stuck with us," Murdock said. Trying out another nickname he questioned, "Knees?"

Face laughed. "I think I like 'Face' just fine."

The End


End file.
